


Pretending to be Gay

by Yulyeong



Category: Original Work
Genre: Denial, Drama, Falling In Love, Family Drama, First Love, High School, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Teen Angst, Teen Fiction, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2017-12-28 15:10:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/993375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yulyeong/pseuds/Yulyeong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~A gay novel~ At Vantas High School, Colin LaFay is like every other hard working student. He studies hard, has a plan for his future, and goes above and beyond expectations. The only problem is that the whole school thinks he's gay, and he lets them believe it because being gay is better than that truth. </p><p>In his senior year, after facing horrifying circumstances at home and embarrassing moments in school, he starts to wonder about the truths in his life. His family has been lying to him, his father verbally abusing him, Vantas High is not all that he thought it was for the last two years, and he finds himself inexplicably drawn to his fellow male classmate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Colin LaFay

When a man has a crush on a woman, society cheers him on and tells him to go get her and make her his. When a man has a crush on another man, society turns its nose up at him and feeds him to the rabid dogs of living Hell. Sure, society has changed over the years, drastically, coming to accept the term 'gay', but they haven't really come to accept gays themselves yet. Not where I live, and especially not in Vantas High School. It's taboo to mention gay and be serious. Sure, everyone jokes around, calling their friends gay when they'd rather hang out with the guys at a football game than go to Chianti's for a romantic dinner with their girlfriend, but they are never serious. To accuse a man of being gay is to damn their social life to nonexistence. Well, that's almost always true. There are a few exceptions, and in order to be an exception, you have to be someone that nobody, female or male, would think of dating. Ana the freshman is a lovable, sweet, adorable lesbian girl who attends Vantas High, and she's not a social outcast. I doubt anyone could be mean to her because she's such a sweet kid, and nobody could think of her as anything other than a little sister, so nobody minds her being a lesbian. It's a bit stricter with guys, though. We've already had two gay boys transfer out within the first three months of school because of bullying. But, for some reason, the student population of Vantas High let one gay stay without ruining his life. Nobody was surprised when Jessica Abernathy, the head cheerleader and a freshman at the time, accused me of being interested in her older brother, and I didn't deny it.

Now, before you judge, the whole school believing me gay is better than them knowing why I spent so much time with Ryan. As it turns out, the student population didn't mind me "admitting" I am gay, since in our small town we've known each other ever since we can remember. The school never found out about why I spent so much time with a senior, or why we were caught whispering in the hallways most afternoons, and they came to accept who I spent my time with. All I had to do was flirt with the occasional cute guy, offer to show around the freshmen boys, have a happy, overexcited personality, and go shopping with a few girls every now and then. I've managed to be gay for my freshman and junior year, and starting off as a senior this year, my façade still seems to be flawless. The only problem with my life is... I'm not gay.

I've never been interested in men. Sure, I prefer to spend the weekend curled up with a good book and one of the other boys from the soccer team, or out watching the latest horror movie with one of the film study boys, but I've never been into them before. They're just easier to be around than the girls. Less drama, less screeching, less baggage. Unfortunately, that only serves to further the judgement on me. The soccer boys laugh and agree to curl up on the couch with me to play video games or read, thinking of it as my way of hitting on them when really all I want is a sense of normality. Well, all except one. Frederick Elbrook.

Frederick Elbrook, the soccer team's sweeper, fellow senior, and go-to guy of the school, is the exception. Despite teasing me about my supposed sexual preferences, he doesn't think that my weird hangout quirks are attempts to woo him. Instead, he dives head on into whatever I suggest, asking only for an open mind when he requests something in return, like, say, texting me two minutes before a game, asking me to watch him play despite the snow falling outside. And I say yes. The snow wouldn't stop me anyways. He's one of the few males in Vantas High that treats me normally. Even the girls don't.

The girls of Vantas High are some of the most judgemental humans that have ever existed. They trash anyone that they believe could harm the social cycle of the school, which makes their job scaring off the gay population and getting rid of the freaks. Yet, if you don't fall into any of their red categories, and you don't flip their bitch switch, they are the sweetest people on the planet. For some odd reason, they accepted me being gay better than the guys did. For the longest time all I heard while walking down the hallways was "I always knew you were gay!", and "Colin, would you consider coming over tonight to help me pick out an outfit for my date?" Apparently, having a gay guy around that they've known for their whole lives gave them the perfect opportunity to have a male companion. Well-known gay guy equals planning, opinion and shopping buddy that they don't have to worry about impressing. It is kind of nice, having the girls act naturally around me, confide in me. It's like having a giant friend circle of fluttery social butterflies always willing to help or distract me. Still, the only problem being that I am not actually gay.

Not that Nicole Watts cares. Nikki’s one of my best friends since childhood, since we were in kindergarten and she spilt her apple juice on my art project. The tallest of girls, yet she still wears high heels every day; ink black heeled boots to match her flat raven hair, which accents her bright green eyes. The smile on her face is almost permanent in school, since she's got a never ending stream of friends that keep her preoccupied, but she always manages to drop it and be real around me, just like how I can be real around her. And she knows that I'm not gay. I mean, she's known me my whole life, I would have told her if I was even remotely interested in men. She understands why I let people believe that I am gay, and she promised me she wouldn't give my secret up for the world. That's why I love having her around. Nicole is one of those girls that grasp the situation and understands the seriousness. She's been through everything with me, and I her.

Gods, it's hard trying to remember everything.

"Colin LaFay? Are you even paying attention to a word I'm saying?" The sharp accent of exasperation in the female voice that assaults my ears makes me wince, drawing me back to the situation at hand. Miranda Shantz's narrowed blue eyes come into focus, and she holds up the bundles of fabric in her hands. "Or am I talking to the air?"

"Sorry, sorry, I was thinking about school." Giving her my most sincere apologetic smile, I turn my attention to examining the two dresses. The one in her right hand is a slinky hot pink V-neck with a thin white sash around the waist, cutting off at her knees. The dress in her left hand is a metallic purple strapless with a black rope belt around the waist, cutting off mid-thigh. The pink one would show her body better, make her more seductive, but the purple one suits her personality. "Are you looking for a boyfriend or a date to the Fall Ball?"

She frowns, chewing the bottom of her lip while tilting her head to the side, sending waves of curly brown hair tumbling over her sharp shoulders. "Well, I want him to take me to the Fall Ball, sure, but I'm not certain about boyfriend material. Mason doesn't play any sports, and he's not on the student council. He's essentially a nobody. What do you think, Cole?"

It hurts that she thinks of Mason McCol as a nobody. Sure, he doesn't have roots in the school, but he's one of the coolest guys, having good grades and a great sense of humor. But, I guess to Miranda, all that matters is social status and physical potential after school. "I think he'd be a great boyfriend," I voice, taking the pink dress from her hands and hanging it up in her closet. Staring at the mirror hanging in the back of the neatly organized space, I catch her guilty, downcast eyes and rush to ease her pride, "sure, he doesn't have much in the way of muscle, and he isn't the athletic type, but he's such a sweetheart. He'd treat you right." Turning around to face her, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face when her slim arms wrap around my waist, hugging me tightly to her warm body.

"Thanks Cole, you're a lifesaver" she mumbles, not giving me time to return her hug before she rushes off into her bathroom, leaving me standing in her room, grinning lopsided.

If the girl put as much effort into her grades as she does her appearance, she'd be on the Honours with Highest Distinction chart. But, if she did that, she'd probably never have time to hang out, and that would ruin my Thursday nights. She's one of the few sane girls, other than Nikki. Hah. Nikki would kill me if she knew I just compared Miranda Shantz to her. Sure, they are friends, but Nikki is nice to everyone at school. As soon as we get to her house, she whines about girls like Miranda, or, as she calls them, the Mere Girls: all of the girls that are shallow enough to care about a man's social status, how big their ass looks, and how much money they can squeeze out of their parents. I still haven't figured out whether Nikki chose the name Mere Girls due to the fact that most of them have pools at their houses and are in them almost all of the time, kind of like mermaids, or if she's referring to how shallow they are.

Sighing, I rub the bridge of my nose, pursing my lips and snagging Miranda's pink keys off of her nightstand. Hell will freeze over before I understand how women think. The Mere Girls are nice girls, and sure, they care about material over substance, and yes, they can be annoying, but they are sweet girls. I don't get why Nikki thinks they are so horrible.

The sound of high heels on tile floor alerts me to Miranda finishing up, and seconds later the bathroom door is yanked open from the inside and she steps out, twirling around in her signature white four inch high heels. Her eyes twinkle with energy, and she twirls her fingers together excitedly. "So? How hot do I look?"

"Girl, if you were any hotter I'd make you change." Giving her a thumbs up, I toss her the keys and gesture towards her balcony. How the hell does she walk in those things without breaking an ankle?

Miranda stares at me for a moment, judging my level of sincerity, before shrugging and smirking. "I think that's good enough for a first date."

"Are you kidding? It's more than he'll be expecting. Most guys expect a girl to show up in a nice pair of jeans and a pretty shirt for their first date, not a mix-me-up dress and heels." As if I'd know. Never been on a date with a girl? Check. But that's what the other guys said about their first dates. The only girls that dress up fancy for the first night out are the ones who want something from their dates. I guess, though, in this case, Mir does want an invitation to the Fall Ball. Does that count?

"Oh, shut up." She grins back, flicking my nose as she walks past, swaying her hips and expecting me to follow her as she opens the balcony door, which I do after she steps out. "Oh, hey, you're going to have to walk home. I'm meeting Mason at Chianti's, and don't want to have your gay cooties all over my car if he decides he wants to see a movie after."

The cool fall air assaults my skin through my black hoodie. Shivering, I wrap my grey scarf tighter around my neck and close the balcony door behind us. "Is that your way of telling me that you’re running late and don't have time to drive me home?"

Miranda flashes a smile over her shoulder as she thumps down the stairs, towards her 2012 Toyota Camry. "Glad you understand."

"Yeah, no problem." Did I see that coming? Yes I did. A sigh escapes my lips, fogging up the air in front of me. My Converse All Star high tops slip on the thin layer of ice that accumulated on the wooden steps, sending me off balance. Panic shoots through me like electricity, and waving my arms around wildly I manage to catch myself, but not without my cheeks flushing at the embarrassing display.

She turns around at the bottom of the stairs, arching an eyebrow gracefully with amusement in her eyes but she refrains from commenting on my little show. "Are we still up for tomorrow?"

"Of course! I want all of the juicy details about your date!" Squealing, I jump on the stairs, nearly sending myself sprawling at her feet again in my excitement. Mmm. I love hearing about her dates! The fly or fall boys, the sweet moments, it always sounds so magical coming from Miranda. Not to mention the juicy details about who does what, and exactly how cheesy a guy can act! "I want to know everything. Every little detail. What he says, what he does, what he orders. Does he kiss you goodnight, plan another date? I want to know it all!"

Miranda's cheeks flush red and she giggles, clapping her hands together twice before making room for me to finish coming down the steps. "Great! I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"See you tomorrow." Scrunching my nose at a cold breeze and grinning, I thump down onto the pavement behind her before waving half-heartedly and heading down the path that leads around her house. Geeze. It's only October, and a lot colder than I thought it would be. I should have called for a ride. Dad might have picked me up. After a bit of whining, and promising to help with Chemistry homework, Nikki would have picked me up, but I would have to live with her lecture on how she won't jump whenever I ask, though she's a sweet girl and I know that her giving me hell is her way of saying that she's glad I called her for help over everyone else. Ryan definitely would come to pick me up. He jumps whenever I ask him for something. Not that I ask often...

"Have a good night!" Miranda yells, pulling out of the driveway and waving as she drives past, a silver streak in the darkness.

Coming onto the sidewalk, I wave back, knowing that she won't spare a glance in her rear view mirror to see if I even answer. "Same to you" I whisper, smiling softly in her wake. Lovely, shallow girl. I should really call someone. Tugging the Android out of my back pocket, I roll my sleeves higher up my wrists, letting the chilly night air nip at my skin as I fumble with the phone. Menu. Contacts. Friends. God damn it, my fingers are frozen. Growling, I give up and hit Speed Dial.

The crackle of the phone connecting and ringing assaults my ear as I hold it near my face, not wanting to press the cool metal against my skin. Walking faster, the phone continues to ring, testing my patience with its annoyingly perky shrill.

At the seventh ring, the crackle of a connection sounds. The deep male voice that chases the static away calms my nerves and eases the cold. "Hey Colin."

Oh thank God. Ryan. Letting out the breath that I didn't know I'd been holding, I smile. The warmth in my chest doesn't go unnoticed, but I push it to the side, shoving my other hand into my pocket and humming softly. "Hey Ry. Do you have a few minutes to spare?"

"Sure, for you. What's up?"

"I could use a ride home." The pleading, pathetic whine in my voice is wince worthy, but I know the tone works wonders on Ryan's resilience and breaks him down every time. Not that he usually needs much breaking, anyways.

"Sorry, can't help you there. My car's in getting inspected for the winter." The apology is evident in his voice, along with the taxed, tired tone, and suddenly the guilt at having to call him every time something goes wrong weighs heavily on my heart, "but I can send someone over?"

"Sounds good. Thanks." Hitting the end button and slipping the phone back into my back pocket, I sigh. My fingers rub the bridge of my nose, where the cold is making it stuffy. Yuck. I'll have a runny nose when I get back into the heat. I should have called Dad. It's Dad's job to look after me, not Ryan's. Not Nikki's. Geeze. Maybe I should just get my own car. Save people the trouble of having to come pick me up. Oh well. When I save up the money, sure. Still have to finish saving up for University, first. Almost got enough to pay for my first year of University, with all of the classes I need to take to get a bachelors in Biochemistry. Just another two thousand dollars, which shouldn't be hard. Fifteen dollars an hour working at a jewellery store in town is good money, and with a year left to finish saving, I should hopefully have enough for university, and for a used car. Hopefully.

The shrill honk of a horn and flashing headlights draws my attention back, to a red Prius. It pulls up beside me, slowing down to the crawl-like speed I'm walking at, the passenger window rolling down. "Hey, LaFay! Ryan said you were playing hitchhiker and needed someone to play the part of the creepy guy who picks you up and might or might not drive you home tonight safely."

Oh, shite. Out of all of the people that Ryan could have possibly sent, he had to send this one. Why ask him? Why not any number of the drama geeks, or one of the football players? Why call him? Leaning down, I gaze into the car, warm air caressing my face as I offer the teenager inside a wry smile, trying to hide my internal conflict. "Hey Frederick."


	2. The Way My World Spins

The boy in the car flashes me an oblivious, shamelessly amused smile. "Now, don't be like that, Colin. I know you are secretly glad that you might not be returning to your tower on this cold, lonely winter night."

Frederick's words irk me in a new way, sending an unwanted shiver up my spine. A tower, like Rapunzel's, that's an accurate description of my room. It's the one place that I can lock myself up and hide away from the witch, or in this case, wizard. "I might be if you were offering to sweep me away from the evil that is my father."

"Sorry. No sleepover's on week days" he murmurs apologetically, wincing before lifting his shoulders in a shrug and leaning over to shove his soccer bag off the passenger seat. "I can, however, get you out of the cold. Hop in."

"Well, at least that's a start." My numb fingers slip on the metal door handle for a moment before gaining hold, and I pull on the door. It doesn't budge. Sighing, I rap my knuckles on the car door. "Could you maybe unlock it for me so that I can get in, genius?"

Frederick's eyes widen in embarrassment, a flush tinting his cheeks as he leans across the seat and hits the unlock button. "Sorry, I thought I already did." He leans back into his own seat, busying himself with adjusting the heat and turning down the soft jazz music until it fades into background noise.

His embarrassment is cute, but it only serves to further annoy me. "It's fine" I mutter, pulling the door open and sliding into the empty seat. The door slams shut quickly in an attempt to cage the heated air in the car, and I rub my numb fingers together.

"So how was Miranda?" His voice fills the silence as he pulls away from the curb, back onto the slick, dark road. His headlight illuminate the driveways of Miranda's neighbours, all too long to be able to see the huge mansion-like houses at the end.

"Pining over the potential drop of her social status if she decides to date Mason" I answer honestly.

"Someone really needs to teach her that social status will not make her happy her whole life," Frederick mutters, casting me a sideways glance before the corner of his mouth twitches up into a lopsided smirk. He straightens his back fully, forcing his shoulders as far back as they will go, and tilts his chin up in an imitation of Miranda's mother, pitching his voice octaves higher than usual, "now Miranda, darling, I know that in High School being popular and doing all of the popular things makes you feel good, but when you are older you will realize that being popular is not all there is to life. A boy like Mason McCol would make a wonderful husband down the road, even if he doesn't seem like much at the moment."

I can't help the chipped smile that edges it's way on to my face. Ready to play my part, I slouch in my seat and pout, crossing my arms across my chest while glaring at Frederick. "But Mrs. Elbrook, I plan on marrying someone rich and famous and being a model!"

The corner of his lips twitch, but Frederick manages to stay in character, tapping a finger against the steering wheel disapprovingly. "What, like Mr. LaFay?"

Glancing at him in surprise, I arch my eyebrows and shrug. Me? Sure, my dad has money, but it's not like he'd ever give any to me. He probably wouldn't even leave me any in his will. Anyways, Miranda would never consider me anything but a friend, even if she knew I am straight. "Well, sure, his family is rich..."

Frederick gasps in horror, hands tightening on the wheel as his body jerks forward against his seat belt. "But he's gay, Miranda! He's bad news! And I've heard that he's madly in love with that Elbrook boy!"

Coughing, I angle myself to face Frederick, leaning against the car door. To make sure that he's looking at me, I lean forward. Giving him my best undignified glare, I pitch my voice high and offended. "When did that happen and why wasn't I informed?"

"It was love at first sight, darling" Frederick sings, the grin that has been teasing his lips for the last few minutes breaking across his face. He glances at me, winking, and leans forward to turn up the music, singing along loudly and off key. "I can be your boy, and you can be mine."

Try as I may, I can't stop the smile that edges its way onto my lips. "Love at first sight? So he's been in love with Frederick since they were five?"

"What can I say? That Frederick boy is a real catch." Frederick thrums his fingers against the steering wheel, hitting his blinker and taking a left.

Rolling my eyes, I cough back my laughter and slide back into my seat fully, gazing out the window. "I think you are confused, Mother," I answer, pursing my lips and watching the brightly lit street flash by. The pit at the bottom of my stomach, created earlier by the cold, builds up again, an emptiness I can't get rid of, a lie I can't right. "I think it's you who is in love with Frederick Elbrook."

Frederick shoots me a dubious look, eyes bright with amusement, and drops the act. "Aw, come on Colin, don't be like that."

I wonder how Frederick would treat me if he knew I wasn't gay. I mean, we wouldn't be joking about it right now, would we? I wonder what we would be joking about. How pathetic it is that girls spend so much time on their looks when we just throw on whatever is laying around? Or, at least, Frederick does, but he still manages to look amazing every single day of his existence. Me, on the other hand? I actually have to spend time looking through my closet for something that looks even half presentable. "Hey, you're the one saying it, not me. Do I look like I am in love with you?"

"Well, if you have to be serious about someone, wouldn't I be the perfect someone? I'm your best friend, man. I'd never date you, but I'd never let anyone hurt you, and I wouldn't make fun of you for liking me." Frederick shrugs, like it's the most obvious thing in the word, fingers still tapping out the beat of the song. He's completely unfazed by his own words.

Pursing my lips, I raise my eyebrows and ignore the building pit of emotion in my stomach, feeling a headache come on. The turmoil in my stomach makes me feel like I'n going to vomit, and it's all because of this stupid boy. Where the hell is he going with this? He isn't usually the one to bug me about... well, my supposed sexual preferences. "Are you trying to make me like you?" The words come out with more bite than I meant, making me flinch, but Frederick doesn't seem to notice.

He glances at me, arching his eyebrows and pressing a hand to his chest. "Is it working?"

Shaking my head, I look out the window as he takes another left. "I can never tell when you are serious or just messing around."

Frederick raises a hand and waves it, before turning down the radio and staring out the windshield. The cart slows down, to the decreased speed limit of the road we are on, offering the perfect excuse for the minute of silence that passes. "Alright, alright. Want to hear something serious?"

Laughter bubbles from my lips before I can stop it, filling the car as I turn to look out of the passenger side window to hide my grin. "Is it even possible to get a straight answer out of you tonight?"

"Possible, but difficult." Frederick flashes his right blinker and pulls over, shifting his car into park before turning to fully face me. The grin I got so used to seeing disappears, chased off by a frown. "We're at your house."

Good gods, I forgot he was driving me home. I'd listen to any of his bad jokes, let him bug me about any of my weird quirks, and sit outside in the sun, snow or rain to watch him play every single game of soccer he'll ever play in his life if only he'd offer to take me away from this place forever. "If you can even call it a house with my dad in it" I mumble, fingers fumbling over the door handle as I unclasp the seat belt with my other hand. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Frederick leans over, pushing my hand away and hitting the unlock button above the door handle. He shoots me a grin before leaning back into his own space, tilting his head to the side. "Relax, Colin. He might not even be home tonight."

The ease in his voice almost makes me believe him. Almost. "Yeah, sure, what a fantasy to live in." Shaking my head, I open the door and let the icy night breeze in, slinging my legs out of the car.Pulling my hoodie further down my stomach, I step out of the car and slam the door behind me, shoving my hands into my pockets and breathing in deep. The brick pathway up to the two story town house is dark, covered in dead, fallen leaves. It's my personal path to Hell. Just one more night with dad, then I can spend the rest of the weekend at Miranda's house. 

The sound of the car window rolling down shatters the thrum of the car engine and the cold cloak of the night, right before Frederick honks his horn."If it's that bad, then why don't you leave?"

Spinning to face him, I force a smile to my lips and shrug, shoving my fingers further into the warmth of my pockets. Of course he wouldn't understand. His family is perfect; squeaky clean with a mom and dad who don't think he's the spawn of Satan, dropped on their doorstep to personally ruin their lives. "It's not that bad" I lie through my teeth, managing to keep the smile until I turn away again, raising a hand over my shoulder, waving. "Good night, Frederick."

"Friday mean game day, don't forget!" Frederick calls out.

"How could I with you nagging me about it every Friday?" I yell back. Rolling my eyes, I turn to face the car, waving a last time, before unlocking the front door and stepping inside of the warm house. Closing the door behind myself, I drop my keys into the bowl by the door and kick my shoes off, standing in the entryway and absorbing the darkness. Darkness means that dad is either not home, already in bed, or sitting in the living room waiting to bust me for being out so late. The fact that the door was locked means that he's home. He never locks the door when he goes out. Why would he? If people steal his stuff, he can replace it. He's rich enough. So that means he's home. The only questions now is whether or not he's awake. For my own sake, I hope he isn't. Even if he is, all I have to do is mumble some excuse and get to my room as fast as I can. He won't follow me up the stairs. He's probably too drunk to get up the stairs.

"Come in here, Colin. I heard the front door open. And don't even try pretending that you didn't just get home."

Or not. Well, I guess it's better to get this over with quickly than draw it out until morning. Gathering what little courage I still have, I step into the hallway, flicking the first two switches on. Light floods the corridor and the room to the left, illuminating the black leather couch that my dad sits on. "I know I'm late but-"

"And why are you late this time?" His words cut through me, clean and sharp, without a trace of a slur. His eyes are bright and cool, watching me like a hawk. So he's sober this time.

The lie comes to mind faster than I thought it would, mixed with the truth, sounding confident and so wrong slipping through my lips. "Miranda's mom was home later than we thought she would be and I had to wait for a ride from her since Miranda had to run to make it to her date on time." 

"Bullshit." He doesn't even flinch when he says the word, though the Lord knows I do.

I can't believe him sometimes. He's able to smell dishonesty a mile away, but he doesn't do what most people would do and ask for the truth. No, he calls it as it is, as blunt as ever, without an ounce of emotion in his smooth voice. That's probably why he's such a bastard. Crossing my arms across my chest, I lean against the door frame, taking a deep breath to calm the jumble of nerves that's threatening to choke the breath from my lungs. "Miranda's date was scheduled a bit later than I thought it was, and I stayed anyways to help her choose her dress and do her hair. After, I had to call for a ride, which took a few minutes, and now I am here."

"Why didn't you call to tell me you'd be late?" He gestures at the chair across from him, the graceful swing on his hand leaving no room for disobedience. 

"I didn't think you would care, Michael" I answer, shrugging and stepping into the room. The chair isn't one of our comfortable ones in the dining room, but one of the solid wood ones from the storage under the stairs. He must be pissed to have gone all the way under the stairs to get me a chair instead of the next room. Pursing my lips, I sit down and fold my hands in my lap, watching him for any sign of his anger.

"You're right, I don't, but that's not the point. The point here is the total lack of respect you show me. Calling me by my name is disrespectful. Not calling to say you would be late is disrespectful" Michael starts, leaning back in his seat and spreading his hands in front of his, gesturing to me. "I am still your father, Colin."

"Yeah? Is that it? Well, how about my respect, huh? Where's the respect you owe me?" My yell shatters the calm illusion he had, forcing him to lean back as all of my frustration bubbles to the surface, spilling into the air. Standing up, I shove my chair backwards, pleased when he winces. Good. At least something gets through to him. How dare he patronize me about respect when all he does is drink and travel and ignore my very existence unless he's pissed off and needs someone to take it out on? "Now you decide to give a shit about whether I'm out late or not? Where were you the last few years? Where is the money for my university? Where were all the weekend bowling or, I don't know, birthday cards?"

He snorts, shaking hair out of his eyes and leaning forward, elbows on knees. He arches an eyebrow, giving me his 'are you serious' look, as if I am some twelve year old kid still wetting his bed. "Respect you? How could I respect you when you act like a child?"

"I'm not the one acting like a child, Dad!" I scream, the raw anger shredding what little self-control I have left. Throwing my hands up, I step backwards, not caring anymore. He want's to do this tonight, then fine, we'll do this tonight. "Mom dumped me on you and left. I've been doing the best I can, with what I've been given. I have studied my ass off for my grades, and worked my ass off to earn the money for every single thing I own. You, on the other hand, have been wasting your money on expensive wines and new sports cars, and have not spent a single penny helping me with anything. The only thing you've ever done for me is keep the fridge stocked with food, which I assume you do only because you eat it too. So yes, your life sucks because you have me living in yours house, but I've been here for years. How many times do we have to have this conversation before you man up and decide to be a dad?"

Michael stares at me, and for once the ghostly smirk drops off his face. No words to repel my accusation, no defense, no backlash, nothing.

"What? Now you have nothing to say? Good timing, Dad" Without waiting for an answer, I turn and storm out of the living room, jogging up the stairs and walking to the end of hallway, towards the open door at the end of it. The fight drains out of me, leaving weariness and fatigue. I really wish he didn't chose tonight to pick a fight. At least he chose a fight we've had before. No need to exert myself trying to scream all of the pathetic insults I can think of at him. It's the first time we've had this argument when he's been sober, though. 

Sighing, I rub my forehead, stepping into my room and shutting my door softly before laying down on my bed. Logic dictates that I should probably do my Biology homework. I should probably finish my poem for English. I should probably sort out the papers that I randomly shoved in my backpack earlier today, and clean my room, and hey, while I'm at it, I should take off my jeans and sleep in something more comfortable, but you know what, logic? I don't want to move. I want lay here, and hate myself in the morning when I have to run around doing everything that I'm not doing right now, and probably miss my ride and have to walk to school and be late for first block, but I'm perfectly fine with that right now. A little bit of self-loathing in the morning makes the arguments with Michael just disappear right out the window, replaced by things that actually matter, that I actually have control over. And I won't even have to see him for the rest of the week. I'll go to Frederick's game after school tomorrow, then stay at his or Nikki's house, or maybe Ryan's, or, if I'm feeling wild, Miranda's and listen to her rant about her date with Mason. I'm sure her date went well, like the fairy tales she loves to read and the Disney movies she loves to watch. She'll probably end up like a Disney princess, with the perfect, loving prince to sweep her off her feet and the perfect, loving parents to watch over her and give her guidance.

A yawn forces its way past my lips, and closing my eyes, I pull my comforter over my body and curl up, wedging a hand under my pillow. Tomorrow will tell all of it's secrets soon enough.


End file.
